


Healing Hands

by Rosage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-15 22:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12330372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Caring for others comes naturally. Being cared for is another matter, especially when Micaiah has so much to hide.





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SirAranIsWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirAranIsWriting/gifts).



> Pinch hit for SirAranIsWriting, who I very much hope enjoys this.

Micaiah waits until she’s alone in her tent to collapse. She spent the evening healing soldiers, hoping the dusk obscured how sickly it made her. It didn’t hide her patients’ joy and wonder at being restored by her hands, so no matter what Sothe said, she couldn’t stop until she and her aching palm reached their limit.

She drinks from the water skin he already dropped off; is she so predictable one without farsight can do that? It must come from being family. The tent flap opens too audibly to be him, and she reaches for Thani as she rolls back up. 

“Miss Micaiah?”

“Oh, Laura. Micaiah is fine. What can I do for you?”

“You’ve done enough for everyone already. I’m here to check up on you.”

“There’s no need to worry about me.”

“You put me in charge of everyone’s health, didn’t you? If I’m going to do my job, I need to look after our most important member.”

“I’m not more important than anyone else. But—oh, fine.” She can sense Laura’s disappointment, and it feels rude to send her away. She makes space for Laura to kneel beside her. “I just need rest, though.”

“Thank you. I’ll be done in a jiffy.”  

To Micaiah’s horror, the first thing Laura does is reach for her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, but I could see you wince when you touched the patients,” Laura says. “Your hands got hurt in that last battle, didn’t they?”

“No, they’re fine,” Micaiah says hastily. She has let Laura heal her wounds before. That Laura needs a staff is no matter; she’s always grateful, even impressed at what people without gifts can do with training and kindness. But she will not peel back her gloves.

“You always say that. Please, take care of yourself this once.” Laura pulls back the fabric with small, gentle hands, and— _ let it be too dark, let it be too dark. _

Laura turns her hand over. “I knew it,” she says, anxiety leaking through, and Micaiah’s heart stops. “It must have been a dagger. Those horrible soldiers. Hold on, I’ve got vulnerary and bandages.”

Though the herb solution stings, Micaiah is barely aware of Laura treating the wound. Did she not notice? This  _ is  _ the girl who thought they were bandits. Perhaps she knows nothing of the brand. 

“Laura, did you—I mean, didn’t you…”

“All set! Please come to me next time. Healers will always help the injured, especially a friend.” Laura bobs her head. “Rest well, Micaiah.”

Micaiah is too stunned to answer before the tent flap is back in place, leaving her alone but for the bird that slipped inside.

* * *

Micaiah plays with her bangs so nobody will notice her massaging her temple. If only now of all times the future would lay itself out instead of tangling. Even if she had no misgivings, a general has more to keep track of than the leader of a brigade, with only scattered family among a sea of expectant strangers. It relieves her to spot Laura approaching, fresh robes flapping behind her. Whatever she did or didn’t notice during their time in the liberation army, she remains a friendly face.

“Do you have everything you need, Lady Micaiah?”

“Yes, thank you, but I’m still just Micaiah.”

“Oh, but you’re a general now.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

A fluttery feeling emanates from Laura, warm and hopeful. The rest of the crowd’s hearts drum too aggressively for Micaiah to parse what it means. “First an honorable bandit, now a general’s friend. I can’t wait to write home.”

Micaiah opens her mouth to correct her, then stops. It’s not worth worsening her headache, and at least she has a smile to add to it.

* * *

The slush blends in with the horizon. Micaiah breathes through her mouth just to see it crystallize, to prove the air at least is alive. She doesn’t realize she’s rubbing her arms until a cloth is placed around them.

“It’s nippy in the morning,” Laura says. “I know—shall I sew you a coat?”

It’s not as if there’s a tailor around, or even alive. Micaiah gathers the blanket close and smiles as brightly as she can muster. “No, don’t worry about me.”

“You’re always saying that, but you worry about everyone.”

“More than fabric falls on my shoulders.” Her morning patrol is her one time to be alone with her thoughts, but she doesn’t send Laura away. The statues populating the town offer no body heat. She passes a small boy stuck mid-leap and turns toward Laura. “You’re up early.”

“I always pray in the morning,” Laura says. “I decided to take a walk.”

“Oh.” Micaiah pauses, letting the air cloud between them in little puffs. Even now, she has a voice to guide her. How lost must the faithful be without one?

Laura’s heart answers. The world’s horrible silence has given Micaiah a reprieve from others’ thoughts, but now she feels Laura’s devotion in full force, and it almost brings her to her knees.

Insufficient to respond to it, Micaiah pats Laura’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry us through.”

“I’ll be right here,” Laura says. Her boots crunch in the snow as she follows Micaiah, a fond presence in every step. Though Micaiah cannot afford to look back, she can’t help but envision their breaths joining again.

* * *

Micaiah takes her first opportunity to duck into the royal library. With all the fuss of the next day’s coronation, she’s barely had a chance to review the policies she plans to enact. She scans the shelves without reaching for anything. By now she can admit she could use a rest, but if her little sister could go through this as a child, she can keep her head up.

These days she can sense Laura before she hears or sees her, emotions that pulse warm and strong. She’s finally pinpointed the feeling, though she hasn’t known what to do about it and doubts anything in the library will tell her.

“Mi—my lady? Do you have a moment?”

“Yes, finally. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. But it’s always Micaiah for you, Laura, you know that.”

“A queen’s friend, now. I never would have dreamed.” The wonder in her voice makes Micaiah smile, siphoning her joy rather than apprehension at each new thing. “I just wanted to congratulate you. I’ll always be here to help any way I can.”

“Thank you. The same goes for you. No matter how long I sit on the throne, I’ll never forget the people who helped me get here.”

For the first time that Micaiah can remember, Laura’s wearing civilian clothes. The white dress looks good on her—anything would, Micaiah thinks. As if reading her thoughts, Laura smoothes out the skirt before sinking to her knees. She cradles the hand she once bandaged and brings it to her lips, soft against the bare knuckles.

Micaiah flushes. “Please, I know I’m to be queen, but I can’t get used to that. I was only an orphan from Nevassa. Besides, you, you saw—“

She can’t finish. She never did figure out if Laura knew what she was.

“You’re the one with the special sight,” Laura says. “May I ask what you see?”

Micaiah closes her eyes and lets herself feel the gentle pressure on her fingertips. “My visions are no longer clear, but I can sense it. Something good on the horizon as long as we’re together.”

Before Micaiah can prepare, Laura throws her arms around her, knocking them into the bookcase. Books dislodge with a thud, and the librarian appears in the distance to glare at them. Still connected, they giggle, two girls brimming with hope.


End file.
